Nature vs. Nurture, the What If? edition

[Wade Garrett]

It was an age of heroes, of mighty warriors giving battle across the stars in the name of humanity...and Oberst-Leftenant Jeffrey Kerai of the Tervani 43rd was at the absolute arse end of it.

 

Intellectually, he knew it could have been worse. There were many, MANY officers in the Imperial Army who would have, if not killed, at least seriously maimed for a cushy assignment like manning Persephone Station.

 

But after month upon month of hunkering down on a frozen planetoid at the outer fringes of the Sol System, with nothing to break the tedium except logging the coming and going of various expeditionary fleets, a task the servitors could handle without any input at all from their human overseers...

 

What a wonderful story he'd have to tell his daughters when he finally took his retirement back on Earth.

 

Da, what did you do during the Emperor's Great Crusade?

 

I sat in the same room for twenty years and stared at viewscreens.

 

It was almost enough to make him wish it was forty years ago, when Sol was still occasionally visited by the odd xenos raider or would be conqueror...

 

As if his inner monologue were a spell to reshape destiny, his entire console went red and alarm sirens began to howl.

 

For a precious few seconds, he was frozen. It had to be a system malfunction. Had to be. For the whole console to go red like that, that would mean...

 

"Ancestors on Earth!" the woman at the next station hissed. Lt. Kerai would have cautioned her against falling back on outdated superstitions, but he was too busy clutching his right hand to keep it from involuntarily tracing a crux on his chest.

 

Whatever was translating into realspace at the edge of the system was immense. Unimaginably so, with dimensions that were more in line with the planetoid below it than anything that should be traveling the spaces between suns. And it was definitely not Imperial.

 

"Kill those alarms! I want astropathic and vox alerts aent Mars and Terra! And have station guns calculating firing solutions on that...on the object."

 

"How in the Emperor's name could they miss it?" hissed a stunned voice from the far side of the command room, but Kerai ignored the idle chatter, his full attention focused on the tac-data beginning to stream across his screens.

 

The object wasn't a single, purpose built vessel...rather, it was a hodgepodge of them, eldar ships, greenskin roks, xenos vessels that never before been encountered and categorized....even, if auspex could be trusted, an Astartes battle barge of outdated design, all crudely surtured together to form the father of all Space Hulks.

 

"Sir, we've got a line to the unknown vessel!" one of the ensigns called up at him. Unknown, indeed. Nobody wanted to tempt fate and be the first to say xenos, even worse, hostile, with the goliath construct looming over them like an executioner's axe...

 

"Unidentified craft, this Persephone Watch Sation. You are trespassing upon the sovereign territory of the Imperium of Terra! You will power down your engines and declare your intentions, or we will have no choice but to open fire."

 

Kerai's voice was calm, controlled, and in no way acknowledged that if that thing had a tenth of the armament its size suggested it would obliterate his outpost and the iceball it was located on in one volley.

 

After a second, he received an answer, a voice that somehow projected both warmth and reverent awe even through the snarling vox distortion.

 

"Persephone Watch Station, this is Lorgar, of the Arahk. Please contact my father, and tell him I've come home."

[Wade Garrett]

(cont.)

 

Lorgar's close cropped hair was plastered flat to his skull with perspiration. His muscles burned with every movement, and his gasps of exhaustion were almost loud enough to drown out the thundering heartbeat in his ears .

 

In contrast, not a single bead of sweat marred his opponents shoulder length ebony locks, and his friendly, just faintly superior smile hadn't wavered for the entire sparring session.

 

"You...never...wondered if there... might be some truth to the faith of your homeworld?" The ragged Primarch wheezed, grasping for respite he could get.

 

Lionel, Grand Cardinal of Colchis, contemplated the matter for all of a second before pressing his attack once more, point of his rapier almost invisible as it jabbed through the air between them.

 

"I believed that billions of others believed it and found meaning in it." The other allowed, his white silk robe hissing in time with every lightning fast move. "And that was good enough for me."

 

Do you mind partaking in my morning constitutional, brother. I fence just a bit, brother...had to have some sort of hobby to keep in shape, brother...and they say I lie...

 

"Odd sort of attitude....supreme religious leader." Lorgar rasped, weaving off the line of the Cardinal's attack with the triangular footwork he'd picked up from an eldar corsair.

 

Lionel's lips tilted upward ever so slightly in approval as he shifted his stance to realign with his elusive brother.

 

"Less so than you'd think." he answered . "And speaking of odd...a whip? Certainly, if you wanted to discipline prisoners or keep herd beasts in line, but it seems a bit...limited as a weapon of personal defence."

 

"Can't tie a sword around a bundle of goods and carry it back to your lander. Or use it to make up the difference when your rapelling line falls short halfway down a crevice."

 

Lorgar punctuates every word with a strike of his own, the crack! of the lash resounding through the sparring

cage like a fyceline rotary cannon on full auto.

 

The Lord of the First blocks every blow, almost lazily knocking the metal tip away with the basket hilt of his sword or the edge of his forearms.

 

"Still. I believe it's better to employ every tool for the task it's most suited for." The warrior priest said, and Lorgar has had enough.

 

It's possible that the other Primarch is just discussing the merits of whip versus blade, and the patronizing tone in his voice is purely the product of Lorgar's wounded ego.

 

But the Seventeenth doubts it, and so he reaches for his talent, the gift that has far more applications than just guiding him to Terra.

 

Suddenly his brother is moving slower...not slow as such, just not as overwhelmingly fast as before. Slow enough for Lorgar's next strike to coil around his swordarm.

 

He yanks back on the lash as his other hand closing into a fist, meaning to drag the swordsman into a thunderous uppercut, and even with his talent, he's almost skewered when Lionel flows with the pull instead of resisting,

using it to guide his next thrust towards Lorgar's ribs.

 

The point carves a line across his arming vest, across the skin on his ribs, but he's already turning, letting it slip past his chest as he hooks his leg around his opponent's and sends them both crashing to the floor with him on top.

 

"VERY good, Lorgar!" If anything, the prone Colchisian's smile grows even wider. "But if you would look down...."

 

Lorgar follows his brother's gaze and sees the dagger in Lionel's off hand, the one pressed ever so lightly against the lean muscles of his stomach.

 

"Look farther down." He advises,

and Lionel beholds the diminutive hold out pistol in Lorgar's other hand, pointed at a much tenderer portion of his own anatomy, of xenos design but glowing with the unmistakable blue white of a plasma weapon.

 

Just for an instant, the benevolent smile is gone, replaced by a calculating stare as sharp and pitiless as the edge of a ritual knife....and then it's back, the Cardinal practically beaming at the man on top of him.

 

"I do believe I'm going to like you, brother." he laughs, sliding his dagger back into its hold out sheath in his sleeve. Lorgar smiles back at him, kills the pistol's charge...and pointedly tucks the weapon into his belt, the grip and barrel plainly visible.

 

The calculation flickers in the First's eyes once more, but this time the smile remains.

 

"Yes, I think we shall get on very well indeed."

[Conn Eremon]

Lorgar of the unknown fleet?

[Wade Garrett]

Uh-huh.

 

I felt that Fenrisian Lorgar encapsulates Aurelian's being hard headed to the point that once he takes a position, it takes orbital bombardment to blast him off of it, but he gives short shrift to the other big part of the Word Bearer's personality, the search for the meaning of it all.

 

So, Indiana Jones playing Homeworld Lorgar of the fleet, traveling the stars searching for Terra and the destiny he feels calling him.

 

I wanted to get more into his character, but Johnson of Colchis kept trying to run away with the snippet.

 

Which I've added to just a teensy bit.

[Conn Eremon]

I actually want to read more about Colchisian Lionel than Lorgar, to be honest.

 

Reminds me of one of my initial ideas that I ended up scrapping in light of others' pieces, of a Colchisian Rogal Dorn of the Black Templars Legion. Crusades across Colchis to spread the one true faith of the God-Emperor, but actually accepts the line that he is no God. Doesn't make him any less zealous in his prosecution of war and persecution of all things evil; mutants, psykers and heretics.

 

Edit: And you know, there is still plenty of room for your Fenrisian Lorgar to grow.

[Wade Garrett]

Oh, I'm not abandoning him by any means, I just wanted to splash around in another pool for a few minutes.

 

Colchisian Johnson...for him, I was thinking of how canon Johnson is the perfect knight, all chivalry and honor, right up until SURPRISE! BROADSWORD TO THE CHEST!

 

That kind of...hypocrisy is one word, or you could go for a bit of nuance and say that Lion is either a knight errant who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty or a beast that apes the trappings of knighthood, and even he doesn't know which is which.

 

I thought it would be fun to take that two faced element of his character and have a Johnson who rises up through the ranks of the Covenant while believing in "Lionel" and not much else.

 

A Pope who is also a robber baron, and who reacted to the Emperor's coming with "No gods, you say? Okay. People of Colchis, I regret to inform you that due to there being no such things as gods, I am resigning as your supreme spiritual leader and will no longer wear my big hat of divine empowerment. From henceforth, I shall rule as your supreme temporal leader and wear THIS big hat representing my unquestioned secular authority."

 

If you saw Tim Curry play Cardinal Richileu, that's the feel I was shooting for with Cardinal Lionel.

[recon0321]

I like your work wade

[Conn Eremon]

If Tim Curry was in it, I've seen it.

[Wade Garrett]

I like your work wade

Ha, thanks man.

 

If Tim Curry was in it, I've seen it.

 

Disney's "The Three Musketeers" was so much better than the most recent adaptation it's not even funny.

 

Although now I feel like I shafted Lorgar of the Unknown Fleet and his Legion of scouts and explorers. And I was all a-titter for their post Heresy schism, with Astartes seeking metaphysical truth in form of the Chaos Gods, the Machine God, the Eldar Gods, the C'Tan...even the Tyranid Hive Mind, if any of them make it that long.

 

Lionel...him I can see remaining loyal. The difference between him and canon Lorgar being, to paraphrase C.S. Lewis:

 

"Living under the rule of the robber barons is to be much preferred to the tyranny of omnipotent moral busybodies. For their greed may sleep, and their lusts be at least temporarily satiated, but those who torment us for our own good will torment us for eternity, for they do so with the approval of their own consciences."

[recon0321]

Anyone got any ideas to help fine tune my idea I am not the best with story telling....but I have great ideas

[Ace Debonair]

Gah, I'm stuck.

I've got an itch to write a bit about Roboute Guilliman of Fenris, but I just can't come up with a good name for him.

Making his last name Russ is a no brainer, since he can be raised by the same clan as canon Leman. But Roboute just doesn't work as a Fenrisian name and I can't find anything appropriate to change it to.

[Adra'Melek]

Well something beginning in R wouldn't fit IMO. What about B for RoBoute? Something like Brand or Broder? Or Bertrand, which I think means Bright Shield.

 

Recon, I posted some stuff on the other page, don't know if you saw it or not.

[Ace Debonair]

Ooh, me likey.

Brodur Thengir Russ, the Azure Titan, the High King of Fenris and Primarch of the Wildborn.

Yep, gonna work on that once I've had some sleep.

I haven't been this happy about a Primarch/World combo since Jaghatai Khan Lasartine Bron of Inwit.

[recon0321]

Ace that name sounds awesome

[Wade Garrett]

Interesting...I'm currently kicking around Leman Guilliman of Maccrage, trying to find a decent angle.

 

Also, how does "Korbin the Hooded" strike you gentleman as a name for a Corax of Caliban?

[Augustus]

What if Sanguinius was found by those chaos-y Cave dwelling mutants on Fenris. Is there potential there?

[Ace Debonair]

Ace that name sounds awesome

Thank Thunor for that one.

Hopefully the rest of the story I've got in mind lives up to the name!

Interesting...I'm currently kicking around Leman Guilliman of Maccrage, trying to find a decent angle.

Also, how does "Korbin the Hooded" strike you gentleman as a name for a Corax of Caliban?

Korbin the Hooded is an awesome name, made doubly so if said Corax is an outlaw who lives in the Caliban forests.

What if Sanguinius was found by those chaos-y Cave dwelling mutants on Fenris. Is there potential there?

Definitely.

Sounds like quite the tale!

[recon0321]

Choasy cave dwellers on Baal?

[Nomus Sardauk]

Choasy cave dwellers on Baal?

I reckon that'd be a bit too close to his DH counterpart's story I'd say. :/

[Ace Debonair]

When old king Thengir of the Russ died, there could only be one choice to succeed him.

The old king had lived a long, full life, but had never sired any children of his own. Perhaps this is what drove Thengir to adopt the strange child that he and his hunters found alone on the tundra, on a fateful night a score of years ago.

The boy had grown quickly, far quicker than the other youths of the tribe, both physically and intellectually. After a scant handful of years, the boy had become a full-grown man with wisdom, strength and charisma worthy of any great leader.

His name was Brodur Russ, and by his tenth year tales of his deeds were quickly becoming legendary. He initially joined the clan's hunters, stalking the great beasts of Fenris, and always returning with abundant meat for the clan, trophies taken from slain creatures for his father's hall, and tales of perilous combat in the desolate wilderness.

By his fifteenth year Brodur was the clan's de facto war leader. By force of will and personality he had revolutionised the military, turning them from a snarling mob of ruthless barbarians and raiders into a cohesive, deadly and disciplined force that could face down any foe.

Brodur had been inspired by the Fenrisian Wolves, and the way each pack member played a role in securing a kill. Play your role, he often said, and the clan will thrive.

The newly-instilled discipline of the Russ ensured victory after victory for the clan, be it over beasts, raiders or rival clans. Eventually King Thengir's domain stretched over half of Asaheim.

When the old king died, Brodur was the obvious choice to succeed him. Taking his adopted father's name as a tribute to the man who had raised him Brodur Thengir of the Russ did something that no normal man could dream of doing - he conquered Fenris, absorbing the other clans into his own and declaring himself High King.

When the Emperor came to Fenris, he found not just a surviving civilisation, but a thriving one. Cities were reinforced by layered walls, moats and disciplined city guards. More people were getting their food from agriculture and domestic animal cultivation than from hunting. Never the safest of places to travel in, Brodur was nevertheless constructing great roads that traversed the wilderness, safeguarded every mile or so by watchtowers. The builders were protected by the High King himself and his elite warriors, who patrolled constantly, watching for signs of wild beasts or bandits.

Though it was neither a quick or easy process, Brodur Russ was taming Fenris.

Recognizing his true Father almost at first glance, Brodur had nevertheless challenged the Emperor for the right to be called ruler of Fenris. The High King and the Emperor fought without weapon or armour for almost two hours before Brodur called for a truce, recognizing the great might of the Emperor to be beyond even his own.

When Brodur Russ was given his own legion, and told of his Father's Great Crusade, Brodur smiled to himself. As he stared out as his Legion, his gaze shifted to the blue-green seas of Fenris, and he said;

"I spent my youth bending the wild lands to my old father's will. It was not time idly spent - the same task awaits me anew. But it is the wilderness that made me into a warrior and leader, and so must it create you anew. We shall be the Wildborn, and my Father's enemies will live in fear of our name."

And so the XIII legion would be reborn - each soldier made to learn the ways of the hunter, and to stalk and kill the most terrifying creatures Fenris could offer. Only when they returned with evidence of their victory would each brother repaint his armour to the same blue-green as the Fenrisian seas and decorate it with the furs, scales and teeth of the slain beasts.

The Wildborn took to the Crusade with vigour - worlds fell before them like grain to the scythe, and their commanders were always sure to promote the growth of conquered worlds, as their Primarch had done with Fenris.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Phew, that'll do for now. Typed so fast my fingers hurt.

I'll add more once I decide which particular brothers Brodur should be interacting with.

[Conn Eremon]

Maybe I'll do well enough with Leman Silfides or the Drake G'fannon that you'll include them.

[Ace Debonair]

I definitely look forward to reading about them, Cormac.

I also just re-read my original White Scars idea and realised the HUGE number of similarities between Brodur Russ and Lasartine Bron.

Odder still, I didn't even base them on the same things. Spooky!

Hmm. I'd better focus on the differences next time.

[Wade Garrett]

Tick-tick-tick-tick...

 

To mortal senses, the sound of fingertips sliding across a the haptic interface of a holodisplay would have been completely unnoticeable.

 

Even to the considerably keener senses of a VI Legion Astartes, the noise only existed as something just on the edge of audible.

 

But as minutes dragged slowly by with no acknowledgement of his entrance, Aemilius found the sound begining to hammer against his patience like hailstones against a stone roof.

 

"My lord!" He snapped, bringing the incessant clicking to an abrupt halt. "Ignoring my presence will not make me go away."

 

"I never thought it would, my son." The demigod seated behind the enormous command terminal frowned at the Fourth Captain. "Rather, I assumed that if the matter was important enough to justify interrupting my work, you'd speak up, instead of waiting for me to have the Principes make a formal acknowledgement of your presence."

 

The gaunt demigod returned to sliding his fingers across the screen, crow's feet and frowm lines settling back to their normal state of peevish disapproval as he managed the final details of the Red Scorpions latest compliance.

 

"Lord Guilliman." Aemilius said. "The Storm Walkers are already calling for honor duels as a recompense, and your brother Jagad has..."

 

"I am not unaware of these matters, Legate. Foltus and Jagad Tai are free to call for or say whatever they wish, so long as they act on my tactical...suggestions."

 

"Tactical suggestions, Lord Leman?" Now it was Aemilius's turn to inject acid into his voice. "A waste of time, effort, and the Emperor's bolt rounds? This is a tactical suggestion?"

 

The wrinkled Primarch looked up at his equerry again, lips quirking in a bitter grin.

 

"Was I wrong?"

 

The Scorpion officer conceded the point with a wince. He'd seen the same tactica projections as his gene sire.

 

"Perhaps you could have been a bit more respectful in..."

 

"Or perhaps my time is better spent in matters other than coddling the egos of spoiled children." Leman's high cheekbones and jutting lower jaw gave his face something of a serpentine cast, especially when he narrowed his eyes in disgust or contempt, which was often. It was easy to see why many called him the Viper of Maccrage.

[Wade Garrett]

"Foltus...he sees war as a means to cover himself in glory and honor, another step forward in that race he imagines he's running against the rest of us. Jagad...IF he thinks at all, it's of what the next thing is he'll get to fight, eat, or take to his bed. But do you know how I see war?"

 

For once, Leman didn't look sour, he just looked weary.

 

"Numbers. Endless columns of marching figures. How much promethium the drop pods burn. How many chainblade teeth will be used up. How much food and drink the Army elements will require. The cost and materials to put the citadel walls back up after we knock them down, how many bandages and sterile needles the conquered will need to bind their wounds, and it never...they never END, Aemilius."

 

He let out a great sigh. "An enemy in front of me I could fight...would fight, gladly! But I cannot defeat this...this swarm of figures."

 

"Lord." The Legate ran his hands over his red and yellow robe. "Surely you need not take it all upon yourself. The Munitorium adepts, the cognitators.."

 

Now Leman did smile, faint, but genuine.

 

"Ah, my son...as we've been speaking, I've caught and corrected nine errors by those adepts and cogitators you suggest I rely more heavily on. The Emperor...he requires his sons to play the roles we are most suited for, not the ones that make us happy personally. If Leman Guilliman must be forever eaten up by numbers and speaking bladed words to his brothers and sons so Ultramar may prosper...well. It's not so high a price, is it?"

[Ace Debonair]

Oh damn, that's good.

Which Primarch is Foltus? I thought it was Fulgrim until I re-read it and noticed the name Storm Walkers, and now I'm not sure.

Anyway, good stuff, Wade, and it's inspired me to do a little something more with the Wildborn, so here we go:

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

In the same way that The Great Crusade was simply a magnification of Brodur's goals, so too is the Legion a magnification of the warriors at his disposal. In battle, each squad plays a role to secure victory for the Legion, in the same way that each wolf plays a role in the wild lands of Fenris.

The Wildborn love to goad their opponents into making tactical or strategic mistakes. Although squads often seem awkwardly placed or isolated, the Legion's Wild Lords are adept at setting traps for unwary generals.

Squads with bolt pistols and chainswords act as skirmishers, attacking and harassing foes, either punishing ill-placed troops, harassing targets or used to bait the enemy's strongest forces into position for the rest of the Legion's forces to strike.

In truth, the name 'Wildborn' is a misleading name for the XIII Legion, given their remarkable discipline. Both on and off the field of battle, members of the Legion adhere quite strictly to the complex doctrines of their Primarch, largely built upon from tribal Fenrisian traditions.

Though the warriors of the Wildborn appear savage at first glance, any who have witnessed them in battle know that behind their brutish appearance, boisterous nature and fondness for fine food, drink and song, the Wildborn are as focused a force as any Legion in the Great Crusade.

After a campaign, The Wildborn also take care to strengthen the worlds they conquer, making sure they are more capable to serve the Imperium after their conquest before moving on to the next world. Though this means a slower rate of conquest than some other Legions, the ever-growing size of the XIII Legion is often stated to be proof of their methods' effectiveness.

EDIT:

Part of my post vanished.

EDIT EDIT:

So whereas Leman Guilliman is a warrior in a bureaucrat's role, Brodur Russ is a Roman General cosplaying a Barbarian. He wants people to think he's just another archaic barbarian king, but it's really pretty obvious this isn't the case.

In any reality, I always figured Guilliman to be something of a traditionalist who is influenced by The Way Things Are Done on his homeworld.

I need to research Fenris a bit more and see what traditions can be carried across, to be honest. I'm mostly going from stereotypical Viking stuff overlaid with Roman Empire military stuff.

But anyway, here on Fenris, Roboute's faced with less of a pre-organized military, but abundant examples within nature of how an organized pack can bring down bigger and badder enemies, which influences him slightly differently than it did with Canon Russ.

Leman Russ admires the cunning and strength of the pack, Brodur Russ admires the cunning and discipline - a wolf that charges an elk alone is likely to get trampled or gored, but a pack leaping into the fight together becomes a whirlwind of slaughter.